


A Portrait of the Narcissist as a Young Man

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-08
Updated: 2006-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time – and a very good time it was – there was a young Pureblood wizard with a penchant for narcissism. This is his portrait.</p><p>4,300 words. NC-17. James/Sirius/Remus. Infidelity. Written for a 'narcissism' theme at daily_deviant. July 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Portrait of the Narcissist as a Young Man

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to islandsmoke for the beta work.

_"What is it with her?"  
"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate."  
"Right."  
_

Age 16  
_If the narcissist cannot obtain adoration, admiration, approval, applause, or any other kind of attention by other means (e.g., intellectually) – he resorts to sex_.

 

The hair was key to his whole look, and the fucking hair was _not_ cooperating today.

James glared at his reflection in the mirror, brow knitted together in a single bushy line as he worked a hand through the back of his hair, lifting up sections and yanking hard to keep them in place. "Fucking bollocks house-elves and that new shampoo," he muttered.

"Oi, Prongs!" a voice hollered, accompanied by a pounding on the door. "Evans is in the common room, asking where the fuck you are. Take your hand off your prick and get out here, you tosser."

"Fuck off," James called back, smirking despite his hair's continued reluctance to do as it was told.

"You're taking her to Hogsmeade, you fuck – she knows you didn't just get off your broom."

James frowned, tugging at his fringe. "So?" he called.

The door opened and Sirius poked his head in. "The fuck, Prongs," he muttered irritably, stepping into the room and swatting James's hand away from his hair. "She didn't spend as much time on _her_ hair as you're spending on yours. Get out there and worry about getting her skirt up and her knickers off, yeah? Before she changes her mind about this whole date business and _I'm _stuck with you forever."

"You'd love it," James purred, turning from the mirror and reaching out to tap Sirius just above the hipbone.

"Ow, fuck." Sirius jumped out of reach and winced, shaking his head. "Tickles." He smirked at James and lifted a hand to his friend's head, ruffling the thick black hair until the messy spikes stayed in place. "Now go get shagged, would you?"

James laughed. "At Madam Puddifoot's? Think I'll have to put in some solid tea-drinking time before I'll be shagging anyone."

Sirius waved a hand. "Whatever you've got to do. Just get _shagged_ for god's sake! Take your mind off _yourself_ for five minutes." He pushed the door back and ushered James out. "You're insufferable like this."

James grinned as Sirius pushed him out the door, resisting the urge to check his hair one last time. "I don't think shagging's the way to get me to stop thinking about myself," he noted with a wink.

"Yeah, suppose you're right," Sirius said thoughtfully, glancing over at James. "It's just going to make you worse, isn't it?"

"Yep. She hates Quidditch and thinks I'm a right git at everything else, so it must be my monster cock she's after."

"Poor girl." Sirius shook his head solemnly. "She has no idea what she's in for."

~~~~~

Age 17  
_The more "difficult" the target – the more rewarding the narcissistic outcome_.

 

It was always quiet in this part of the library, thirteen rows back from Pince's desk and shielded from the rest of the stacks by the nearly ceiling-high oversized book section. It had been the perfect place for sneaking the books they had needed to make the Marauders Map, and to become Animagi, and it was the perfect place for James's purposes now.

He eyed Remus across the table and licked his lips.

Lily was beautiful, and soft, and wet for him at the lightest touch, but she was also all too eager these days. Sinking into her tight heat was blissful, yes, but there was less excitement to it now. Less _prowl_.

Remus raised his head, as though feeling the burn of James's eyes on him. "What?" he asked.

James shrugged. "Nothing," he said easily, not letting his gaze waver.

"You finished?" Remus nodded at the Transfiguration book in front of James. "I've got to come up with a conclusion for this essay before I can go." He dropped his eyes back down to his parchment.

"Tired?" asked James softly.

"No, I'm all right." Remus kept writing.

"Thirsty?" James dropped his voice to a purr, and Remus briefly paused.

"No."

"How about hard?" James murmured.

Remus froze, his quill in mid-stroke. "No," he said at last. "I'm fine." The quill continued across the page, trembling slightly.

"Moony," James breathed, leaning across the table. "I know how it gets, this close to the moon."

"Shut up, Prongs," Remus muttered. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, I do," James pressed. "I've seen you, remember? I've _seen_ how hard your cock gets before you transform."

Remus finally looked up, his face a mask. "I'm not transforming tonight," he pointed out as his eyes darted sideways, frantic to detect any eavesdroppers. "I know what you're trying to do," he added, "and it won't work."

James just grinned. "Like hell it won't," he replied.

"Prongs, I've told you a thousand times: I'm not shagging you."

James paused, putting the finishing touches on his strategy. "All right, no shagging," he agreed. He pushed his chair back quietly and moved around the table, behind Remus, and leaned back against the wall. "But I _dare you_ not to watch me." He waited until he heard Remus's sharp intake of breath, counting the seconds afterwards to make sure he held it.

The alcove throbbed with silence.

Slowly, with careful precision, James opened his robes and began to lower his zipper. The yawning click of metal stretched on forever, until Remus drew a shuddering breath and dropped his head into his hands, elbows pressed into the table.

"Stop it," he moaned, still refusing to turn around and look at James.

The metal slid into place at the base of his trouser placket, and James let the air around them halt for another second before leaning forward to breathe a whisper into the back of Remus's neck.

"_Watch me_."

He settled back against the wall, satisfied for now with Remus's muffled whimper, his head still down on the table, cradled in his arms. Lifting his cock out of his pants as he shoved his trousers down his hips, James ran appreciative eyes over his own hard length. He had a damn fine cock, if he did say so himself, and what's more, he knew how to use it.

He never _fisted_ it, like he'd seen the other boys do in the showers. He preferred to handle it with more reverence than that, holding it only between his thumb and middle finger as he stroked. It slowed the pleasure that way, he'd discovered, letting it gradually seep through his entire body rather than spiking too quickly.

Oh yes, his cock was a fucking piece of art, he thought angrily as he moved it through his grip. He knew it, and Lily knew it. The only thing more gratifying to him than her moans of satisfaction when he fucked her with it was his own deep groans, spilling out and making his chest vibrate from the force of the pleasure he could give himself.

But that wasn't enough now. He wanted _Remus_ to know it.

"Remus," he whispered, his voice low and raspy as the pressure built in his groin. "Turn around. I know you're hard for me. I know you want to watch."

The strangled sounds of Remus's breathing filled the room as James stroked himself, his eyes locked on the back of his friend's neck. The gentle swell of Remus's back muscles strained as he struggled to keep his body in check.

James let a few well-timed moans escape his lips, his anger and arousal building with each passing second of Remus's hesitation. So. The werewolf had superhuman willpower, did he? That was the only excuse for resisting the appeal of _James Potter_. "Feels good, Moony," he murmured, the sweat beginning to bead on his upper lip. "Come on. You want it."

"Shut the fuck up, James," growled Remus, raising his head at last and staring forward. "You're going to regret this, you know."

James laughed softly. "Think so? You're the one who's going to regret losing your chance with me. You're the one who's–"

But the words were cut off, because Remus was on his feet in an instant, whirling around to face James and tearing into his own trousers in one motion. He gripped his cock hard and fell on top of James, pressing him into the wall with a brutal shove and thrusting his hips into James's.

The burst of pleasure momentarily blinded James as the weight of Remus's stronger body pinned him against the wall. "I knew you wanted me," he breathed, and Remus ground in harder.

"Shut _up_," he muttered, breath hot on James's neck as the hand around his cock opened to take James in as well. "God, I fucking worship you, and you know it," he growled. "You win, okay, you fucking _win_, now just _shut up_."

The heat of Remus's fist around both of them was electric, James's cock grinding against Remus's hard length in sweaty, almost painful jerks. It wasn't quite how James liked to stroke himself – he could have done it better – but Remus had finally admitted his desire, and that was all that mattered.

He came hard, thrusting deep into Remus's hand and spilling over both of them, his hot come coating Remus's hand and cock as light filled James's vision. He imagined how good it was going to feel to wank to this memory later, and a new pulse ripped through him. He groaned and bit down hard on his lower lip, pleasure spiralling through him at the knowledge that he was still the best, that not even Remus and his famous fucking _reserve_ could resist him.

~~~~~

Age 18  
_Narcissists tend to brag in graphic detail about their conquests and exploits. In extreme cases, they might introduce "live witnesses" and revert to total, classical exhibitionism_.

 

Beer bottles littered the floor of the living room in James's small flat, as he reclined on the sofa, lazily running a hand through his hair. "I've been shagging Moony, you know," he said casually, pausing to inspect his fingernails.

Sirius glanced up at him from the floor, squinted a moment, then laughed, shaking his head. "The hell you have."

That wasn't the right reaction. James glared down at him. "That so hard to believe?"

Sirius shrugged. "Moony wouldn't put up with your shite. And anyway, he's not a poof."

A grin spread across James's face. "I'm just _that_ good," he purred, glancing down in time to see Sirius pause, parting his lips _just_ slightly.

"Why him, then?" Sirius challenged. "Why not me?"

"You want to?"

Sirius paused again. "No."

"Listen to you!" James was off in gales of exaggerated laughter at that. "Like you have so many other options." A thought occurred to him, and he narrowed his eyes. "Unless you wanted Moony for yourself," he snarled.

"No. Maybe. Look, you're drunk, and this is getting really fucked up. What the hell's wrong with you, shagging Moony when you've got Lily?"

"Lily's different," James replied simply, gazing up at the ceiling. "Completely different."

Sirius struggled to his feet. "Okay, whatever. I'm going home. Feel like hell."

James waited until Sirius was almost at the door before he spoke. "Don't you want to hear about how tight he is?" he called softly.

Sirius froze.

"What, you didn't think he'd let me fuck him? Course he does." He turned his head to see Sirius clutching the door handle, eyes trained on the floor. "Just last night, Padfoot, on this very sofa," he continued quietly, his heart pounding in excitement. "I was so deep inside him he couldn't even speak. All he could do was _groan_, this incredible sound that just has to be part of the wolf or something – god, it's so fucking hot."

He paused, letting the sound of Sirius's thick, dry swallow fill the room.

"Ever been inside a bloke, Padfoot?" he murmured, feeling his cock begin to harden from his words, and the memories of the way Remus looked at him with such adoration as James fucked him.

"That's not… _fuck_," Sirius muttered, his eyes still fixed on the floor. "No," he answered at last, his voice low, and James grinned.

"It's different than girls. Not just tighter, but there's a _feel_ to it, you know? It's like a really tight mouth, like suction in a way. Moony, _god_, he just pulls me in, until I can't help it, I have to move – I have to push in harder. Right on this sofa last night, Padfoot, he just lifted his legs up and _took it_, let me pound him like a rag doll – but stronger. You know how strong he is."

Sirius was breathing hard and fast now, his hands balled into fists. James smiled a predatory smile as he rose from the sofa and strutted to the door, his breath hot on Sirius's neck a moment later.

"But that's not the only way it's different from girls," he murmured. Sirius tensed but did not move or turn around, and James grew irritated. The stupid bastard should be wanking by now, just from the sound of James's voice. He pressed in harder against Sirius's back, one hand on the door just above his friend's shoulder, with the other slowly snaking its way down Sirius's chest and stomach, a light trail of fingers that paused at his waistband as hips pushed from behind.

"Don't you _fucking_–"

"It's different," James continued loudly, "because we're not supposed to do it. It's this _thing_, isn't it, that we're just not supposed to even think about doing." He yanked on Sirius's trousers now, smiling to himself when they came undone so easily. His fingers reached inside to find his friend already hard and leaking, his pants damp with arousal as James felt the hard outline of Sirius's cock through the cloth. Sirius bit back a moan at James's touch. "So that means when we do it," he whispered, "it makes us unique." He leaned in and licked at Sirius's earlobe. "Special." He took an earring between his teeth and bit on it, tugging at it and inhaling the deep scent of Sirius's hair where it fell over James's cheek. "_Extraordinary_."

"Fuck," Sirius muttered again, more angrily this time, before shoving his pants down, grabbing James's hand and clenching it around his cock. "You fucking stupid prick. You want to toss me off? Fine. Fucking _do it_, then, and shut your goddamned mouth while you're at it."

"But I'm not done with my story yet," James pouted, gripping Sirius and beginning to stroke. "I never told you how good it feels to watch Moony jerk himself off while I fuck him," he said quietly in Sirius's ear. "I never told you about watching him come, about how he clenches around me like _this_." He squeezed Sirius's cock hard, relishing the desperate noises Sirius was beginning to make.

It was difficult to keep up with the story when he was fisting a cock like this. From this angle, lined up behind Sirius and pressing into his back, James could close his eyes and imagine it was his own cock he was stroking. It was thicker than his, and the head wasn't as smooth, and god, but he didn't _leak_ this fucking much before he came, but those things aside, for a moment he forgot all about Sirius, and focused only on the feel of a hard cock in his fist.

It was burning hot, the precome slicking through his fingers as they increased their pace, moving in quick jerks over the smooth shaft from base to tip. He swirled his thumb over the dark red head, just the way he liked, gathering the moisture there and coating it over the hard length below. His breathing became ragged and he felt a delicious throbbing in his groin, bucking his hips forward as he pumped furiously, the heavy cock in his hand beginning to tense and spurt rhythmically.

Untouched, his own cock twitched and shuddered in his trousers, but it wasn't enough, not yet. The blood raced through him as he wrenched Sirius's orgasm from him, pulling the come clear from his body as if it were his own, letting it coat his hand and run over Sirius's balls and thighs. "You should see him when he comes," he whispered to Sirius, finishing the story he'd started. "Like a fucking freight train, he is. Just like you."

Sirius slumped into the door, his forehead pressed against the dark wood. "Suppose you're going to tell him _this_ story next, yeah?" he said in panting breaths.

James took a step back, wiping his hand on the back of Sirius's shirt. "I might. Or you can just come along next time."

Sirius raised his head, glancing over his shoulder as he refastened his trousers. "This is really fucked up, you know."

James flashed a smile, spreading his arms out to the sides. "That's what Marauders do best, isn't it? Besides," he added, "you know you'd do anything for me."

"Yeah." Sirius rolled his eyes, frowning as he felt the crusting stain on the back of his shirt. "I would. You stupid prick."

~~~~~

Age 19  
_In his mind a clear separation exists between the honest "woman of his life" (really, a saint) and the whores that he is having sex with_.

 

Fucking Sirius was not the same as fucking Remus, James decided after he had been doing both for some time, and neither of those two things was quite like fucking them together.

The first time they tried that, Sirius just watched. Remus was angry, as he always seemed to be lately, snapping at James that there was a war on, and he had werewolves to liaise with, and anyway, didn't James have a _wife_ he was supposed to be doing these things with, and if only James's cock was a little bit smaller and a lot less addictive, Remus would walk away from the lot of them and wait for them to fuck themselves into oblivion.

But none of that ever kept him from dropping to his knees and taking James in deep, his hands curling into fists and his cock growing stiff and damp with each thrust into his arse. James loved the way Sirius watched, his hair falling casually over his eyes and a cigarette quivering between his fingers. He sucked on it nervously and jiggled his leg up and down for awhile as his eyes took in the sight of James sliding inside Remus's body, but it wasn't long before Sirius had to tear open his trousers and fist himself roughly.

James made sure they both called his name when they came. That was the whole point, after all. He had constant adoration, constant satiation, a wife with skin like porcelain and two lovers who worshipped his cock. And yet – _yet_ – it was never quite enough.

Sirius collapsed onto his back one night, come covering his chest and his spent prick softening against his hip. He reached for a cigarette and beckoned Remus for a light. "You know, this is stupid. Why don't you just invite Lily along next time? As if she doesn't know what's going on."

James stilled above him, relishing the last spurts of his orgasm before pulling out and sitting back on his heels. "Kiss me," he told Remus over his shoulder, and Remus rolled his eyes as he sat up, brushing his lips over James's, before lying down on the floor beside Sirius. "No," James said to Sirius after that.

Sirius shrugged. "She's beautiful, and she likes us. Why not? Bet she'd be into it."

"No!" James hollered, surprising himself with the vehemence of his reaction. His skin went cold and he suddenly felt as though there wasn't enough air in the room. Lily, here, in the middle of _this_? It made his stomach churn. His eyes took in his two best friends, stretched out naked in front of him, smeared with sweat and come and ashes and grime. They were filthy. Lily didn't deserve to be in the same _room_ as them, never mind anywhere near their pricks.

Lily was like the heaven to his earth, the angel set down here just for him. "Don't you two fucks ever go anywhere _near_ my wife, is that clear?" he bellowed, and Remus glanced up.

"Easy, Prongs," he said.

Lily had been Head Girl, the best student in their year, a Muggle-born who had defeated the odds to become one of the most talented witches in Britain. She could have had her pick of men; everyone wanted her. But she'd chosen _him_. She knew he was the best, the only one worthy of her attentions, and he would be damned if he would ever let anyone else touch her.

"Leave Lily out of it," he muttered, grabbing his clothes. "And clean yourselves up, by the way. You're fucking disgusting."

He headed out the door to get away from the sounds of their laughter, and their kisses, and the way their names began to fall from each other's lips as the door clicked shut, his own name already forgotten.

~~~~~

Age 20  
_Naturally, boredom (a form of transmuted aggression) sets in once the going gets routine. Routine is counter-narcissistic by definition because it threatens the narcissist's sense of uniqueness_.

 

Hiding was going to be difficult.

He had been Head Boy, Quidditch captain, a secret Animagus (in one of the most challenging animal forms to master according to recent research, thank you very much), and one of the Order's top intelligence operatives. Nobody on the other side ever suspected a rogue _stag_ of having ears that led straight to Dumbledore, and the information he gathered helped immeasurably with the war effort.

"There is a Prophecy," Dumbledore told him and Lily gravely one night, and at first, James felt a cool rush of excitement in his veins. He was _marked_. No less than the most terrible sorcerer of their age had singled _him_ out as a worthy opponent.

"It's not about _you_," Lily sighed, balancing Harry on her hip and waving her wand at his bottle. "It's about Harry."

But Harry _was_ him, as far as James was concerned – a perfect, tiny reproduction of himself, and he would grow up in front of adoring crowds. Together, they would defeat You-Know-Who, and when the Wizarding world picked up the pieces after the war, it was the Potters people would look to for leadership. James could feel it.

If only he didn't have to sit in a rotting old shack and wait for it all to happen.

"I could go with you," Remus offered, but by that time Remus was looking old. He already had grey hair and tiny lines around his mouth, and he just wasn't as quick to bend over for James's cock as he used to be.

James squinted at him. "No," he said after a pause. "Go off to your werewolves. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, with Sirius," Remus muttered under his breath, turning to the door.

"Jealous?" snarled James, but Remus just shook his head.

"How could I be?" he asked simply. "The only thing you're interested in is yourself – and maybe that baby that looks just like you." The door slammed. James never saw him again.

Sirius stayed close to him after that, which was nice, if a bit predictable.

"I think Moony's up to something," James announced to him one night as they lay in tangled sheets in Sirius's dark flat.

"Because he won't fuck you anymore?" Sirius replied without missing a beat, that maddening smirk on his lips.

"No, because – oh, for fuck's sake." He frowned, clenching his jaw as Sirius's hand drifted down his thigh. "Wanker."

Sirius laughed and lowered his mouth to James's cock then, tongue pushing roughly against the underside and lips clamped tight around the smooth skin of his shaft, and James sucked in a breath. He looked down and threaded his fingers through Sirius's hair, encouraging him with a gentle press at the back of his head. The wet lips vanished.

"Do that again, and I'll bite it off," Sirius warned, his voice a low growl, and James snorted back a laugh.

"Sorry," he said, lifting his hand away.

Sirius always knew how to please, his mouth having grown remarkably talented over the time they'd been doing this. He was like Lily, in a way: he ducked his head down, made some smart remark, acted like he had any number of things he'd rather be doing, and then swallowed every drop when James finally stiffened and came down his throat.

Every Monday and Thursday, when Lily took Harry to see Alice and Neville. Like clockwork.

The idea, when it came out of Sirius's mouth some days later, immediately struck James with that euphoric high he felt whenever he sensed that something was _about to happen_. Something new. Something big. Something that would ratchet up his life a notch and save him from this unbearable routine.

"What about Wormtail? Haven't seen him for awhile, so he might be perfect for throwing them off the trail. They probably don't even know you two are friends."

Peter.

"Do you think he'd do that for me?" James asked, as a test, but Sirius saw right through it.

He laughed, clapping a hand on James's shoulder. "For you? Prongs, the little rat worships the ground you walk on! Always has. You could have your very own minion, catering to your every need."

James smiled at the words. _Yes_. It was perfect. The house would be safe, Lily and Harry would be protected, and meanwhile, he could have a _minion_ at his beck and call.

"_Yes, Master_."

James could hear the simpering fool already.

"_I'll do anything for you. Tell me what you want_."

 

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The quotations at the beginning of each segment come from some rather sketchy websites about narcissism as a sexual fetish.
> 
> 2\. "What is it with her?" / "Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate." / "Right." Quoted from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, UK edition, pp. 571-2.
> 
> 3\. The title, of course, comes from James Joyce, _A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man_ – aka: the most manipulated title in literature. Couldn't help it. The story bears no other resemblance to Joyce. Er- at least I hope it doesn't. For his sake. The first 14 words of the summary are his, too. :)


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